


Observant (Covert Love III)

by parkjinchu



Series: Covert Love [3]
Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: BUT SANHA WAS SNEAKY, Fluff, M/M, THIS TOOK ME SO LONG IM SORRY, yall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 01:30:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9693905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkjinchu/pseuds/parkjinchu
Summary: Sanha has always been observant. The stone of shame that hangs heavy in his stomach won't stop him from finding out more about the dynamics of his hyungs.this is a work of fiction, and in no way represents the real lives of astro's members. in case of astro/fantagio/reasonable fan request, this fic will be taken downread full disclaimer on my profile





	

**Author's Note:**

> ok ok if you guys havent read the first two parts i really recommend you do otherwise this wont really make much sense im so sorry pls enjoy

_His fists clenched, the boy slams his foot into the ground, clouds of dust whirling around his black sneakers. Tears roll out of his eyes, and his body seems to shake. Sanha doesn’t know what to do. His words are laced with too many emotions – frustration, sadness, hurt, and somehow still, relief._

_“That’s not how it_ works _, Sanha,” he sniffles, rubbing one of his fists down his wet cheeks._

_“Sure it is; you can love whoever you want!” The boy smiles, cheeks still round with baby fat turning rosy._

_The boy opposite Sanha shrugs, hiding his face in his hands. “You don’t understand, Sanha. Not everyone thinks like that,” he mutters between his fingers, and Sanha tilts his head to the side, confused. His mother had told him that everyone deserves love and happiness, so why did his friend think the opposite, for himself? “I’m glad you do. You’re my best friend forever, right? You’ll never leave?”_

_“Never,” Sanha smiles, sticking out his hand._

 

+

Minhyuk waltzes into the lobby, standing before Sanha, who’s huddled over his Nintendo in an orange chair. Flicking the boy in the forehead, he snaps the younger out of his daze. Whipping his head up, Sanha glares at the culprit, rubbing the large, red welt on the space between his eyebrows. “Park Minhyuk, that hurt!” He whines, pressing _PAUSE_ on his game.

“You left your phone up in the practice room,” the boy replies, nonchalantly, falling into the seat beside Sanha.

“Oh, did I?” he raises his eyebrows inquisitively, tapping at his pockets before realising he had, in fact. Minhyuk plucks the game console from Sanha’s fingers as he stands to leave. “Try and defeat that final boss for me, yeah? I’ve been struggling for days.”

Mumbling to himself about how he wished he’d remembered to grab his phone so he wouldn’t have to climb all of these horrendous stairs, Sanha ascends them anyway, two at a time. About to waltz right into the dance room, he’s stopped still and silenced by the sounds of laughter inside.

_“Wow, you’re really good at dancing, Moonbin!”_

Sanha recognises that voice as Dongmin’s. He’d only met Lee Dongmin a few weeks ago – their group finally starting to form. Sanha had made fast friends with Minhyuk, and as default, Minhyuk’s childhood friend Moonbin. His eldest brothers were ever so kind to him and protecting – even if Myungjun showed it in an odd way. Dongmin was incredibly smart, and had already helped Sanha with some of his homework – he was very, very kind.

_“O-Oh, thank you, Dongmin.”_

Sanha peers through the glass door, just managing to stay hidden from the mirror’s reflection. Dongmin stands awkwardly in the centre of the room, hands clasped together at his front. Moonbin takes a long swig from his drink bottle, red in the face.

“Can you show me how?” The black-haired boy asks, tilting his head to the side. One of his fingers moves to tug on a strand of his hair, curling it around his finger.

With a stuttered agreement, Moonbin smiles brightly, and begins walking the boy through the numerous steps. Bin’s hands hover over the outline of Dongmin’s body, critiquing his movement with soft words. Sanha doesn’t know why he’s so intrigued by the interaction that he’d stopped, and he’s just about to open the door and step inside, when he sees Moonbin shift behind the older boy.

In the mirror’s reflection, Sanha can see Moonbin’s long fingers wrapped around the older boy’s hip bones, turning them to the side. Their position, so close and guarded, makes Sanha reckon they look like a couple. He smiles, keeping this little secret memory to himself. Dongmin’s cheeks flush red, eyelashes fluttering as he watches his reflection closely.

Sanha sighs, wondering when he’ll get his phone back, and reminded of his childhood best friend.

 

+

Closing his eyes, Sanha feels the make-up brush dab at his eyelids, turning them a subtle golden colour. He’s utterly exhausted, and if this make-up takes any longer, he’s sure he’ll fall asleep before he gets on stage. As soon as he thinks this, he’s pulled out of the chair and lead over to the clothing rack, where his name is hooked over a pink jacket.

He pulls the outfit off the hook and makes his way over to the changing station – a fold up board in the corner of the room. Tucking himself behind, he peels off his day clothes and changes into the costume. The corner of the privacy board is stretched open too far ajar, and paranoid people could see him changing, Sanha goes to pull it back.

As he does, his two leaders are revealed, laying side-by-side on their stomachs. Jinwoo is hunched over a notebook, scribbling words and doodles into the lines, crossing some out and frantically drawing more in. Myungjun’s feet sway in the air behind him, sneakers occasionally tapping against the ground.

The older one mutters something, shuffling the slightest bit closer. Sanha, from his secret nook, watches the tops of Jinwoo’s ears paint pink. Myungjun nudges his shoulder, and Jinwoo drops his pen into his notebook, letting it roll into the centre. The expression on Jinwoo’s face seems worried or anxious, and Sanha wonders why.

His face is stoic for a few moments, and Sanha wishes he could see the expressions on Myungjun’s face, so he could piece together why a giant smile blossoms onto his leader’s face just moments later. His cheeks are red, shining across the bridge of his nose. He laughs gently, mutters something with his eyes shut tightly, and lets a hand linger on Myungjun’s shoulder.

Sanha shrugs – he doesn’t quite understand the conversation and he can hear Manager telling him to hurry, so he shrugs on his jeans and steps out of the station.

 

+

Sanha watches the flicker of passion in Moonbin and Minhyuk’s eyes as they repeat perfectly memorised steps before the mirror, giving themselves critiques as they go along, so the next time the song plays on repeat, they’ll perform even better. He notes the sheer concentration in Dongmin’s eyes, squinting at his movements reflected back at him, eyes flittering back and forth between the other members as he steps around the room. Jinwoo closely watches his arms, and Myungjun smiles at himself and the rest of the group as they work in unison.

When Yoon Sanha first noticed that the rest of his group all focused on different things in the dance studio, he wondered what he focused on, when looking in the mirror. Did he watch his feet, or the shimmy of his t-shirt, or the way his hair bounced? He became paranoid, unsure of the answer – until he realised that it was ASTRO.

He was observant.

Sanha was the first to notice the snow, as it fell from the clouds and painted the city white. He noticed their driver will always stop at an orange light. That Minhyuk sleeps with his eyes open almost every night. That Myungjun won’t stop staring at the lift of Jinwoo’s shirt when he jumps. Sanha rolls his eyes.

In the car on the way home, Sanha leans his head against the window, watching the flurry of lights whisk past the van. Moonbin bops his head beside him, having plugged his earphones in. Myungjun talks animatedly to Minhyuk about something to do with tomorrows schedule. As work ends and sleep has long fallen over this city, Sanha appreciates the clockwork cycle that their group seemed to fall into.

Jinwoo unlocks the door to the dorm, stepping aside and letting everyone else in before him. Myungjun lingers by the entrance, bag handle in his fingers as he waits his turn to go inside. Moonbin and Dongmin are already headed towards their room, the younger boy’s hand splayed out on his lower back.

“I call first shower!” Sanha yelps, throwing his bag on the floor and rushing to grab a towel. As he turns the tap on and lets the water flow through his hair, Sanha ponders the dynamics of all the boys older than him (excluding Minhyuk, who seems content enough just to dance his whole life – though Sanha has his theories).

The way Dongmin always looks forlornly at Moonbin, and how they always crave each other’s attention as if they couldn’t get it from the other four. The many quiet nights when Dongmin is out with his busy schedule, when Bin hangs out with Minhyuk and Sanha, but seems bored or lonely. How Dongmin always wakes Moonbin up early, so they can make coffees for the rest of the group as the sun crawls over the horizon.

Or, Jinwoo and Myungjun, never apart, practically joined at the hip. Obviously each other’s favourites, never catching (or wanting) a break from each other’s attention. The way they always snuck off as night time rolled around. The way Jinwoo’s fingers always seem to find Myungjun’s hair on movie night. The teasing, the soft giggles, and gentle pats – a constant in their relationship, however it may be read.

He doesn’t have long to ponder, in these few moments he has alone, before Minhyuk is rapping his knuckles on the door and begging Sanha to hurry, _because I’m so sweaty, I’m basically a waterfall, Yoon Sanha._

Sanha clambers out, quickly pulling on his pyjamas and heading back to his room to dump his clothes in the hamper. On the way through the hallway, he passes the twin bedroom, and he can hear soft murmurs through the walls. He smiles to himself, wondering what the pair could be talking about that makes it sound as if their voices are smiling, too. As he passes the entrance to the dorm, he spots Myungjun and Jinwoo.

For a brief moment, in passing, Jinwoo looks tired. His shoulders are slumped and his knees are ever-so-slightly bent – but his eyes hold a soft gaze towards the older boy, pink lips curved upward in a gentle smile. In his hand, is the oldest member’s backpack.

A few minutes later, Minhyuk has shoved the coffee table into the corner of the room to allow some free space. Sanha instructs him, giving him dance moves he’d been desperate to achieve flawlessly, giving him fake critiques. Even though Minhyuk hadn’t been playing at first, he was having fun now, a cheeky smile on his face.

Sanha hears Jinwoo pass by, entering the four-person bedroom quietly. He hears the faintest _“Hello, JinJin,”_ a sentence filled with relief, and pleasure, and comfort. Smiling to himself, Sanha tucks the moment away into the back of his brain, one among many similar moments.

 

+

When Sanha stirs back into consciousness, he can hear the rumble of the coffee machine, Minhyuk’s soft snores, and Myungjun’s mumbling from above him. As the coffee machine whirs to a stop, he can hear Dongmin and Moonbin quietly chatting to one another. He sits up, suddenly desperately thirsty, and makes his way to the kitchen.

The pair are side by side, sipping from their respective mugs. Moonbin looks up, and smiles tightly, “Would you like some coffee, Sanha?”

Sanha shakes his head, thanking Bin before pouring himself a glass of water and climbing onto the bench top. He feels Dongmin’s careful gaze on him, as a comfortable silence falls upon the three. A few minutes later, Minhyuk enters, with wild bedhead that Sanha prods at, watching the splintered parts bounce.

Next is Myungjun, who trails out of his bedroom and into the kitchen, tired eyes and sagging cheeks, yet still an ever-present smile blessing his lips. He stands before Moonbin, “Can you make Jinwoo and I a coffee, each, please, Mr. Moon?” He asks politely. He rattles off the way Jinwoo likes his coffee as if it’s been engraved into his memory.

“Hey, Myungjun,” Sanha calls for the eldest, grabbing his attention. “You should train the leader to wake up earlier, you know? He is our leader, after all. Shouldn’t he be up before these two early risers?” He gestures to the two who made coffees, attempting to prod at their behaviour together. As a sign of success, Dongmin blushes, lowering his head and casting his glance elsewhere.

Myungjun defends the slow-riser, a cheery and toothy grin pushing his cheeks upwards. He leaves, not without giving Sanha a harsh flick. Scooping up the two fresh mugs of coffee, he gently opens the bedroom door and calls for Jinwoo, under his stage name, quietly. From where Sanha is sitting, he can see the Myungjun didn’t push hard enough on the door, and it very slowly swings shut.

In the few moments that it’s left open, Sanha watches Myungjun climb the ladder to the top of the bunk, sitting cross-legged beside the leader.

“That’s ‘a’-to-the-power-of- _four_ over ‘a’-to-the-power-of-eight, not _fourteen_ , Sanha,” Dongmin gently berates, using an eraser to scratch out Sanha’s mistakes on his homework, an hour or so later.

Sanha restarts the question, and Dongmin is tugged away to help Bin pick an outfit for the day. He begins to pack up, when he hears the eldest two in the kitchen. _“Are you tired?”_ Jinwoo asks softly, and there’s no response, but they both giggle after a moment.

 _“We’ll come home as soon as we can tonight. You can nap after the photoshoot in the car,”_ The leader says, softly, lovingly.

There’s an outburst of laughter from Moonbin and Dongmin’s room. _“You’d look better in this, Dongmin…”_

 

+

Sanha watches from the shadows.

Moonbin hooked over Dongmin’s shoulder, pressing his cheek into the dark strands of the older boy’s hair. One hand hangs by his side, the other splayed out over Dongmin’s heart. Sanha wonders if it’s thumping against the pads of his fingers. Moonbin looks nervous, and apprehensive, but content. Bodies pressed together, they pose for the camera.

Dongmin’s smile is cheesy and the slightest bit awkward – charming, and the cameraman cheers him on. Reaching up, the black haired boy laces his fingers with Moonbin’s. Something in his expression shifts, Sanha notices, doe-eyed and relaxed, he appears the most comfortable Sanha has seen him in a long time.

He needed to get a rise out of these two – another piece to the puzzle he’d been trying to solve for a long while now, perhaps? He skips up to them as they traipse the halls back to the dressing room, where Myungjun and Jinwoo must be waiting. “Are you a couple?” He teases, a sparkling grin on his features. He squeezes one of Bin’s cheeks. “Did that turn you on?”

Moonbin reaches a hand over and ruffles his hands through Sanha’s locks, a bright grin on his face. “The perfect ‘soap’ couple must play for the fans,” the older boy giggles, turning his face to the side to flash a wide grin at the second half of the pairing. If Sanha stared hard enough, he could see a crack in his composure, the truth behind his words desperate to break free.

Sanha peers over the sharp curve of his shoulder, too, at Dongmin. Through his gentle smile, Sanha watches as Dongmin crawls further behind his shell, shrinking in on himself, emotionally. He watches as Dongmin’s Adam’s Apple bops in his throat, as he struggles to hold back a flow of tears. Sanha assumes he’s the only one that noticed.

Maybe, that wasn’t the right move from him to make.

Feeling guilty, Sanha quickly packs up his things, eager to seek the advice of his eldest members (without context, of course). When he looks up, coat wrapped securely around his chest, Jinwoo’s hand slides from Myungjun’s shoulder blade, down his arm and latching onto his wrist. Within a moment, they’re whisked out of the room.

Minhyuk wants to play. Sanha obliges, chasing him around the dressing room. He doesn’t miss the soft touches between Moonbin and Dongmin, comforting and tender, from the corner of his eye. Of Bin, buttoning Dongmin’s coat across his chest and patting it gently, a sprinkle of pink blush on the apples of his cheeks.

In the car, Myungjun snores softly behind Sanha, and to cover up the noise, he and Moonbin sing along to the radio together. Dongmin, between them, seems distant – his eyes scan over Jinwoo occasionally, and Sanha can almost see the cogs in his brain beginning to turn. All too soon, he snaps out of his thoughts, and stares elsewhere.

Sanha feels both disappointed and relieved.

 

+

“They’re so loud,” Minhyuk yelps in Sanha’s ear, standing on the tips of his toes to reach him. The fans stand below the stage, cheering for their favourite groups. Sanha can hear the chant of A-SEU-TEU-RO in the middle somewhere, and his smile beams so brightly, someone could mistake it for a spotlight.

“You love it, though, right?” Sanha giggles, scanning his eyes over the other groups for the rest of their band. Sometimes, being gangly and tall had its advantages.

“Of course,” Minhyuk replies, bouncing on his toes. “There’s no better sound!” He admits, but takes it back quickly when the screams turn to white noise in his ear, and he pushes his earpiece further in, a lame attempt at trying to conceal the ear-piercing cheers.

The oldest four had paired off, as if muscle memory – Dongmin blushing beside Moonbin, Myungjun and Jinwoo, obviously shorter and joined at the hip. To Sanha, it feels right, correct, and warm.

He glances down at Minhyuk below him, and wonders what he might think of the situation. He wonders what everyone else will think of the situation.

A thought that had been planted in his mind a long time ago has finally bloomed; he wants to protect his older ‘brother’s’. No matter what it takes.

 

+

“Don’t eat too quickly, Binnie,” Dongmin gently warns, as he hands the younger boy a steaming plateful of take-out. Sanha smiles softly, watching as Dongmin subtly slides the seat closer to Moonbin’s.

Maybe it’s the treat of having take-out for dinner, but Sanha doesn’t pay much attention to the conversation and the way it swells into new topics. It feels sudden, when Minhyuk complains about his lack of love life, and inability to write love lyrics. He’d written a lot, and Sanha really admired him for it. “At least you’ve experienced a confession! I’ve never confessed to anyone. But, you have written love lyrics before – in fact, you and Jinwoo both write a lot of lyrics. Jinwoo, have you ever confessed to anyone before?”

He says this out of pure interest, of course – but he feels he’s hit the jackpot at the scene that unfolds.

“No,” Jinwoo replies, face lifting in a fond smile, eyes going distant. “But, I’ve been confessed too.” He’s staring at Myungjun – his gaze drifting from the ceiling and falling, perhaps coincidentally, on the older boy. Within a moment, there’s a sharp yelp, following a stomping of feet. Sanha watches a fiery look sliding over the eldest boy’s face as he stares Jinwoo down.

Blushing, Jinwoo ducks his head back down into his meal, taking a big bite and avoiding the gaze of his members.

Sanha wants to hypothesise, but refuses to let himself do so. The memory of the two in the far corner of the dressing room all those months ago lingers at the forefront of Sanha’s mind, dancing teasingly before him.

“You two, are you okay?” Bin asks from across the table.

“We’re fine,” Myungjun fakes a laugh. “I accidentally kicked him under the table – I didn’t think anyone would confess to Jinwoo. I was surprised,” he says, and Jinwoo provides a half-hearted, bashful look, and avoids much conversation for the rest of the meal.

As dinner closes, the youngest two are dumped with the duty of cleaning the dishes. As they stand side-by-side, Sanha’s hands dunked under the murky, warm water, Minhyuk asks, “Want to play a board game when we’re done? Practice really tired me out, I don’t think I have the capacity for much tonight,” he smiles weakly, twirling a plate between the towel in his hand.

Sanha grins, “I’d love that. Should we invite Bin and Dongmin?”

“Of course – let’s gang up against them,” Minhyuk flashes a mischievous grin, stepping onto his tip toes to tuck a plate into the over-head cabinet.

As Sanha sets the board upon the coffee table, he asks the older two if they’d like to play, too. Sanha isn’t surprised to see Moonbin ask for permission from Dongmin to play with the youngest two. The two were inseparable, even more so as of late – one didn’t go anywhere without the other (excluding Dongmin’s exponentially busier schedule…).

A blush slides up Dongmin’s cheeks, making them glow a faint pink colour. He nods, and settles the two of them down, side by side on the carpet.

It’s only a minute later when yelling is heard in the room over. Sanha seems to hear it first, as no one else makes any move to do something about it.

_“What’s that supposed to mean? You were staring at me!”_

“I’m not the only one that can hear them, right?” Minhyuk mutters quietly, dropping his piece onto the board.

_“I could have just said it was a girl in high school, MJ – you didn’t have to kick me and come close to making a big mess of everything!”_

Sanha can’t help but smile at the nickname. He supposes they’re talking about the awkward moment that occurred over dinner.

“Should we check on them?”

“We should go see if they’re okay,” Dongmin agrees.

 _“I didn’t want anyone to ask questions – you’re a bit slow, you know? You could have said something about us without realising!”_ Myungjun snaps. _Us_ , Sanha notes the word, thick and bold in his mind’s eye. The other three don’t seem to notice the pronoun as they stand and make their way over to the door, where the argument echoes through the wood.

Sanha winces. He’d never heard Jinwoo yell, or seem frustrated or hurt. But now, as he cuts through Myungjun with harsh words, he feels a shiver run up his spine. Additionally, the usually ‘happy-virus’ Myungjun retorts angrily, a bite to his every word.

Without any notice for the eldest two, Dongmin turns the handle and swings the bedroom door open. Myungjun sits on the step ladder of the upper bunks, face pinched as if he were in the middle of a temper tantrum. Jinwoo, oddly enough, stands between Myungjun and the door, shirtless, a garment held tightly in his fist.

“Is everything okay?” Minhyuk asks quietly, sounding almost scared. Sanha doesn’t blame him. Jinwoo and Myungjun were the foundations of their group. They lead the way and protected the others. In a fight, he fears the entire group might fall apart.

Jinwoo must feel embarrassed, or maybe his leader instincts kick in – quickly, he shrugs on his shirt and turns to address all five of the others (not without a long glance in Myungjun’s direction). “Everything is fine,” he answers, clasping his hands together. “There’s no need to worry about anything,” he says, a gentle smile finding it’s home on his lips.

Slowly, the other four retreat one by one, until Sanha is the only one left at the door. He shuts the door quietly behind him, lingering, in order to hear something to add a piece to this never-ending puzzle in his brain.

_“I’m sorry,”_

_“Let’s be more careful, together,”_

Sanha hurries back to the lounge, feeling an awkward tension in the air. Do the others realise the nature of Jinwoo and Myungjun’s relationship – do Dongmin and Moonbin, especially? “That was weird,” Sanha mutters, taking a seat on his side of the board again.

“Very.”

That night, in the lounge room after the taller pair had long retired for the night, and the eldest two had remained tucked away since the incident, Sanha and Minhyuk lay side by side on the carpet. Minhyuk’s phone lays between their hips, playing a song Sanha doesn’t particularly like. But, Minhyuk hums along and bops his head in rhythm, and he looks content – so Sanha doesn’t complain.

“What do you think they were fighting about, Sanha?” the older boy asks quietly, words tumbling out of him in a break between the songs.

Sanha tilts his head to the side, looking at Minhyuk, who is staring right back at him. Sanha has his suspicions, he has had for a long, long time now. He’s also waiting for a such slip up to come from Dongmin and Moonbin – though he wonders if that’s still a while’s wait.

Sanha’s hypothesis: Love. Romance. The eldest two are in love with each other, and had a couple’s argument. He supposed the sentence, ‘ _You could have said something about us’_ was the real key – the way ‘us’ uttered as if Myungjun were physically jabbing a finger between their chests. Everything, in Sanha’s mind, felt like it finally fit.

“No clue,” Sanha lies, and he’s about to laugh when Minhyuk squints his eyes, scanning the younger boy’s face for a trace of a lie.

“You know something, don’t you?” Minhyuk blinks when Sanha shakes his head. “You do!”

“I don’t!” Sanha assures, waving his hands about dismissively. “I just… Maybe it’s best we stay out of it, right? It’s their business, and it’s obviously a secret of some sort,” he suggests, shrugging his shoulders. The older boy takes this as an answer, rolling back onto his back.

He sighs. “I guess it is kind of rude to butt-in on a private matter. I’m glad you think that way, Sanha. I’m glad you respect others,” he smiled, a big toothy grin splitting the lower half of his face sweetly.

Sanha feels a prick of guilt in his belly – after listening closely to conversations and observing many interactions, could he really say that he’d been respectful of their business? Could he stand before the group and say that he’d always been honest with them? Sanha laughs awkwardly in response, running his fingers over his tired eyes.

“Thank you, Minhyuk,” he says instead, taking the compliment for everything it could have been.

There’s a long silence between them, and Sanha can tell that Minhyuk wants to add something to the conversation that had long since died. The song changes twice before he breathes in and says, “I’m worried about Bin.”

Sanha cocks his head to the side, “Why?”

“I don’t know… I just… We’ve been friends since we were kids – I know him inside and out. And – he’s acting different. Sadder, almost empty. Like a shell of Moonbin. Does that make sense?”

“Sorta… Try and explain more.”

Minhyuk nods, holding his tongue for a moment as he shuffles the words around in his head. “He acts like himself, but when he thinks no one is looking, or when there’s a lull in conversation, he seems to be somewhere else. His eyes look sad,” he replies, and a hand has woven through his hair, as if he were stressed. He turns his head to the side, letting it loll so he’s staring at Sanha.

“I haven’t noticed,” Sanha says, honestly. He truly hadn’t. He felt a little bit disappointed that he hadn’t – as if he’d failed somehow. “Do you know why?”

“No clue, and that’s why I’m worried. I wish I could talk to him – but every time I ask if he’s okay he just nods and looks away,” Minhyuk shrugs, as if he could pull off the façade that the topic meant less than it did to him.

“I understand,” Sanha answers, watching Minhyuk’s eyes as they roll over Sanha’s face. They look hurt, stressed, and a little bit relieved, at the same time. “You should _really_ try talking to him, alone. Maybe you can try and work things out with him, and make him feel better?”

Nodding, the older boy agrees, “I’ll do my best.”

In the silence that follows, Sanha is thankful for this night. Thankful for the delicious meal, and the extra puzzle piece, and the honest chats with Minhyuk. He thinks that seeing the stars would have made this night perfect – but no one can have everything.

 

+

“Jinwoo. _Jinwoo_. Wake up,” Sanha hears. It seems to wake him up before it wakes their sleepy leader up. Cracking his eyes open, and peering over Minhyuk’s star-fish shaped body, he sees Moonbin peeking over the edge of the bed, tapping Jinwoo awake. The youngest thinks it’s a bad idea to wake Jinwoo up at such an early hour – he’ll only be a grumpy leader all day.

There’s a stirring above them, a long groan, before Jinwoo mutters, “What the hell, Bin?” Moonbin falls back onto his heels, and Jinwoo falls into his responsible persona. “What’s wrong, Binnie? Is everything okay?”

“It’s Dongmin. He’s sick. Really sick,” Moonbin says, worry lacing his words. He climbs up the first step of the ladder.

“Oh, dear.” Jinwoo whispers under his breath, shuffling his blankets off his body and ushering the younger boy out of the way as he climbs down the steps. “I’ll go check on him.”

“I’ve already put him back to bed, and I’ve got a wet washcloth for his forehead, but I don’t know what else to do – I’ve never had to take care of someone poorly,” Bin hurries, leading the man out of the room and down the hall.

Knowing there’s no chance he’ll be able to go back to sleep, Sanha quietly gets up and gets himself a glass of juice from the kitchen. Jinwoo is practically shoving Bin out of the twin bedroom, the poor boy stands by the doorframe with slumped shoulders and worry creasing his forehead.

After a minute or two, Jinwoo returns into the hallway, and Moonbin immediately rattles on once again, “Do you want me to stay behind to take care of him? It’s okay – seriously. I can get more hours in at the practice studio. I know a good soup recipe!”

“Shh, Bin.” Jinwoo mutters, pressing the ball of his palm to his temple. With his other hand, he drags Bin away into the kitchen. “I already said I’d take care of him today – it’s my duty as leader.”

Moonbin rolls his eyes, turning the coffee machine on. “It’s your duty as leader to support ASTRO and care for us. Not stay behind for someone ill,” he argues, frustrated.

Jinwoo grumbles something unintelligible, and Sanha interrupts, seeming uninformed. “Is Dongmin ill?”

“Very,”

“A little bit,” The two say at the same time.

Bin rolls his eyes at the understatement on Jinwoo’s behalf, and takes his made coffee back to his bedroom, despite Jinwoo telling him to leave the poor boy alone.

When the youngest and the leader are left alone in the kitchen, the ash-haired elder smiles, a tight lipped smile filled with both love and frustration. “He worries too much,” he tells Sanha, as if he’d asked, and runs a hand through his hair.

Sanha can guess why.

 

+

Minhyuk peers over Sanha’s opened but unused homework book. “Wanna go to the studio to practice? I really want to learn the dance to that song I showed you last night,” he asks, resting his chin in the caved middle of the math book, letting _3x 4(y6)2 **/** (xy)3_ **x** _(x 2y4 **/** xy2)4 _press into his cheek.

Sanha drops his pacer, willing to avoid doing his schoolwork, for anything, really. “Can we get a treat on the way back?” Sanha asks, grinning.

“Obviously,” Minhyuk chuckles, shoving his phone in his pocket and heading over to the shoe rack. Grabbing his coat, Sanha does the same, yelling out to Myungjun, who rests on the couch.

“We’re heading to the studio, Myungjun!”

“Good bye, stay safe!!” He calls, waving with his foot stuck high in the air.

The studio was only a few blocks away, and the grey clouds hovering over the big city partnered with the cool breeze gave Sanha an odd feeling. “Did you talk to Bin?” Sanha asks, tucking his hands in his pocket. He feels the money inside, awaiting to be exchanged for sweets.

“Yeah,” Minhyuk answers, smiling softly. He looks up at the dark sky, frowns for a moment, then smiles again.

Sanha craves to hear more than this. He nudges the boy’s shoulder. “You’ve gotta give me more than that! What did he say? Is he okay?”

Minhyuk laughs as Sanha tugs on his arm, practically pulling him down the street. “He’s fine! Great, actually.” Sanha quirks an eyebrow, and Minhyuk gives in, stopping them in the centre of the pathway. He grumbles, “Look – you have to promise; I never said anything – okay?” He extends his pinkie-finger for Sanha.

Sanha hooks their pinkies together – he worried for Bin, too, after hearing that he’d seemed out of tune. There had to be an explanation behind his actions, and he wanted to hear it from Minhyuk, who cared so much.

“He’s in love,” Minhyuk answers, and Sanha’s lips curl over a beaming grin, giggling. Minhyuk giggles too, releasing their connection so he can cover his mouth. Sanha feels like he knows who the interest of Bin’s romantics is, but he refuses to say anything.

“Before you ask who, he didn’t tell me,” Minhyuk says as they continue around the corner. The company building is on the opposite corner, doors awaiting their arrival. “He told me it was an unrequited love, though,” he sighs sadly, pursing his lips.

Sanha doesn’t believe that for a moment, that it was unrequited love. Yet, he nods, makes a comment about how it’s unfortunate, and the two step inside.

The pair dance for a good two hours, learning the entire first half of the song and critiquing it to perfection. They’re about to head out, when their choreographer walks in. “Leaving already, boys?”

Sanha nods, and Minhyuk rubs his towel down his face, clearing the sheen of sweat.

“S’Shame. I was wondering if, Minhyuk, you would like to help with the choreography for the next single?” The man asks, gesturing around the room.

Minhyuk grins, “Yeah, sure. I’d love too,” and takes a long swing from his water bottle. “Are you okay to leave on your own? I’m sure I can do this another time,” Minhyuk tells Sanha, who shakes his head dismissively.

“No, I’m fine. Do you want a chocolate or a sweet?” He asks, shrugging on his coat.

Minhyuk ponders this for a moment, weighing up his options. “Chocolate, please,” he answers, and Sanha leaves quietly.

The walk home is peaceful, comforting. Sanha hasn’t been alone for a long time – and it feels nice to be without distractions or the constant begging for conversation. The plastic bag in his hand sways by his thighs, carrying in the bottom, four chocolates and four sweets. He’d decided, in the end, to share both with Minhyuk.

Sanha unlocks the front door, about to stash the purchases inside his coat and under his pillow for himself and Minhyuk later, when he hears something akin to a groan of pain. Except… less pained and more… pleasured. Sanha blushes, attempting to brush it off as his imagination – when he steps into the lounge room.

Jinwoo hovers over Myungjun, arms bracing the sides of the eldest boy’s head. Their lips are connected sweetly, moving against each other. Was that a tongue? The leader straddles Myungjun’s hips, their ankles connected and bodies pressed together. “Jinwoo,” Myungjun murmurs softly, a sound as if he were being tempted by something irresistible.

Sanha can’t hold back his gasp, and suddenly very embarrassed by the show his leaders had put on, he drops his sweets and ducks out the door. Running outside, Sanha waits at the far end of the hallway. For what, he doesn’t know. Confrontation? A helping hand to aid him through the confrontation he’s bound to receive?

Sanha is both confused and in awe of his abilities to spot the truth. He remembers his vow to protect his older brothers – and he’s going to have to work extra hard if they were this easy to spot.

Jinwoo, many minutes later, pokes his head outside of the dorm room, down the hallway. “Sanha… Please come inside,” he asks softly, a worried expression falling over his features.

“Please don’t get me in trouble,” Sanha peers over his knees, and Jinwoo shakes his head, laughing softly.

“We’re not mad, we just want to explain,” he says gently, and beckons the boy over.

Myungjun sits at the dining table, tips of his fingernails between his teeth. Jinwoo smacks his hands away from his mouth, cursing the bad habit. Sanha thinks it’s sweet.        An array of food lines the table, steaming plates, and Sanha’s sweets he’d bought, too. The youngest almost drools at the sight before him. He’s so hungry from dancing all day, but Jinwoo holds the chopsticks by his side.

He would eat with his fingers if he wouldn’t get in trouble for it.

“Where’s Minhyuk?” Jinwoo asks, eyebrow raised inquisitively.

“He wanted to choreograph a new dance, and I bought some sweets from the store on the way home. Don’t tell the manager, please.” A cheeky smile decorates his face, and Myungjun returns it with a grumpy look – this obviously isn’t the time for jokes. Sanha feels like hiding – confrontation is scary.

“Where’s Dongmin and Moonbin?”

Sanha doesn’t know. When he and Minhyuk left, they were together in their bedroom. “How am I supposed to know?” A look of concern creases over Jinwoo’s face, but he quickly shakes it away as Myungjun asks another question.

“What did you see when you came home?” He asks, leaning over Sanha. The youngest feels like he’s being interrogated by a policeman on a crime show. He gets the feeling that’s what Melodramatic Myungjun was going for.

Embarrassed, Sanha answers the question. He can’t help the giggle that escapes him, and he hides it behind his hand.

“And what do you promise?”

“To not tell anyone, anyone at all. Except Manager, because he already knows,” Sanha recites, from the conversation they’d had before revealing the bribery foods for the boy. He eyes the chopsticks, shining and sleek in Jinwoo’s hands. How much longer?

Myungjun extends his pinkie, and for the second time that day, Sanha promises to hold a secret by his smallest finger. Seeking an opportunity, he snatches the chopsticks from Jinwoo’s grasp and thanks them for the meal. Jinwoo assures it was just a bribe.

Sanha won’t lie – he’s very interested in their relationship. When did it begin? How long have they been hiding? Does it hurt to hide for so long? Are they in Love?

“It’s been… 238 days,” Myungjun answers after Sanha asks. He’s beaming with pride, and checks with Jinwoo, who smiles and nods. Their cheeks turn pink.

Sanha discovers numerous secrets and lies of their relationship, many times he’d been lied too for their pleasure. He learns that Jinwoo picked out Myungjun’s favourite flowers, and sunflowers, even if they didn’t go together, as a gift for their 200-day anniversary. Sunflowers, because Myungjun reminded him of the sun. Sanha thought this was sickeningly sweet, and he wished for a love one day, similar.

 

+

Sanha is sprawled over the living room floor, radio playing over the speakers in the living room. Dongmin is suddenly leaning over Sanha, round eyes peering down at the youngest boy. Sanha glances up at him. “Can you help me write a love song? I’ve got no inspiration,” the older boy says, looking around the room for a moment. His hands connect in front of him.

Sanha feels dejected – how is he supposed to give advice? It was only a few weeks ago when he’d come clean about never having been one half of a confession. A little hurt, Sanha thrashes his legs about. “As if I could give you good advice!”

Dongmin stands straight, and Sanha follows, sitting upright. “Go seek out the oldest ones,” Sanha advises without watching his words. “They’re together, they’re bound to be able to give you some love-song advice. That’s how Jinwoo wrote all his love songs, anyway,” he drawls, rolling his eyes.

The younger boy sits without noticing his mistake, until Dongmin takes a step away from him, hand clasped over his mouth and eyes wide. Sanha feels guilt and shame sink down his throat and into his belly like a heavy weight – a secret he’d promised to keep to himself had been released. “Wait… What?” the older asks.

Sanha lets the shock settle, then. Eyes widening, almost as if they might pop out of his eye sockets and roll away from his mistake, Sanha points a finger of warning at the older boy. “I didn’t say anything,” he declares, jabbing his index finger forward. He doesn’t want to threaten his elder, but if he could, he would.

“It was kind of hard to miss…” Dongmin mutters, “Jinwoo and Myungjun are dating?!” He sounds exasperated, somehow, tired. There’s a blush on his cheeks and for a moment, Sanha sees his body language fall slack before springing back again.

Before Dongmin can say it any louder, for the rest of the dorm (and the block – he was so noisy) to hear, he covers his mouth and drags him into his bedroom. Sanha feels like hiding, when he slams the door shut and the eldest two lay snuggled impossibly close under the duvet. Sanha spots Myungjun’s fist curled in Jinwoo’s shirts, and even if one small part of his heart thought this was very sweet, the rest of him thought it was pretty embarrassing.

“Jinwoo, we have a problem. I’m so sorry,” Sanha cries, and Jinwoo stirs, pulling away from Myungjun slightly.

“What is it?” He asks, eyes still closed, lips murmuring against Myungjun’s forehead. This makes the older boy shiver slightly.

“I may have accidentally told Dongmin about you two…” Sanha admits, hiding his face in his hands. If it wasn’t shameful enough to watch the interactions of your friends so closely, it was definitely shameful to reveal their secret after promising he could be trusted.

There’s a stillness in the room, the calm before the storm, before the leader bolts upright, eyes wide and face red, fuming. “You told Dongmin?!” He cries, running his hands through his hair and over his face. Myungjun, still horizontal, hides his face beneath the blankets upon seeing the two on the floor below them.

“I couldn’t help myself!” Sanha cries, stamping his foot. He felt bad, and he would find some way to apologise when the problem had settled. But, for now, he only had excuses. “Dongmin asked me for help writing a love song and I didn’t have any advice so I told him to come to you. It was an accident – I swear!” The guilt in Sanha’s stomach makes itself present again.

Jinwoo rolls his eyes and drops his head into his hands. Shame traces over Sanha’s heart like a dagger. From beneath the blanket, Myungjun mutters, “You owe us for that bribe meal.”

“They bribed you into staying silent?” Dongmin asked incredulously, a cheeky smile gracing his lips.

Jinwoo blushes, “It was rather sudden, when he found out…” He watches the lines of his hands, then glances up at Sanha.

Dongmin teases, “How’d you find out?” before sticking his tongue out at Myungjun, who cries and flings himself further under the pile of blankets.

“I caught them making out on the couch,” Sanha recalls, giggling softly. He remembers how embarrassed he’d been, scurrying out of the dorm to hide away. Jinwoo cries out, mortified, and even Dongmin blushes, chuckling awkwardly.

Jinwoo grumbles something under his breath to Myungjun, who whines, but peels the blankets off his body.

 

+

“Are you guys together as well?” Minhyuk asks, eyes wide. He catches Sanha’s eye for a split second, as everyone watches over Moonbin and Dongmin on opposite sides of the room. His face splits into a beaming grin and Sanha watches relief flood over Moonbin’s previously taut face. “We have such a happy household.”

That night, the couples all retreated early. Sanha teases them relentlessly upon their departure, and once again, like clockwork, it’s he and Minhyuk in the living room. The older of the two is spinning around the room on the tips of his toes, pretending to practice, but really just living off the adrenaline the afternoon gave him; learning his older friends had all paired off and found love within one another had filled him with hope, he told Sanha.

“Did you know it was Dongmin?” Sanha asks from the couch, watching him closely. “When Bin told you he had an unrequited love?”

Minhyuk stills, cocking his head to the side and letting his eyes slip shut. “Hmm… No,” He answers, crossing his arms over his chest. “I didn’t even know he liked _guys_ , but I’m glad that it was Dongmin.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I feel like they work well for each other. I’m glad it wasn’t someone who Bin doesn’t know very well, or isn’t a strictly loving person like Dongmin is,” the boy says, lowering himself onto the spot beside Sanha. “I’m glad it wasn’t someone out of his reach, and it was someone that loved him back just as much,” he grins, resting against the cushions.

“He didn’t even tell you he liked boys?” Sanha asks, surprised. Hadn’t Minhyuk said they knew everything about each other? Or, something along those lines.

“No.” Minhyuk answers, shaking his head. “I mean… I always thought maybe, because there’s always a possibility. Did you?”

“Kinda,”

“What, how?” His eyes are blown wide.

“I’m observant,” Sanha pokes his tongue out, flashing Minhyuk a peace sign with his fingers before standing up and yawning.

“Yoon Sanha… There’s never a secret kept from Yoon Sanha. I don’t trust you,” the older boy says, throwing a pillow in the centre of Sanha’s chest.

“It’s better to be upfront about things with me,” Sanha says, holding the pillow in front of him, preparing to launch it right back at Minhyuk. “Hey… If you ever get feelings for Yoo-Jung, you might as well tell me instead of pretending you’re not in love with her,” Sanha winks, and chucks the pillow so it hits directly across Minhyuk’s cheek.

Scurrying away, Sanha retreats to the bedroom, pressing his ear against the door.

_“Sanha… How…? Do you want to die, Sanha?!”_

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed this series??? im so grateful for everyone who commented loving things and supported my first astro fics?? i know there wasnt a lot of minhyukkie in any of these but one day im sure hell get some spotlight (im planning a myungjin fic now whoops sorry i planned it on the back of a receipt at work). 
> 
> ANYWAY I HOPE YOU ENJOYED AND I LOVE YOU ALL THANK YOU FOR SUPPORTING MY WROKS


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